Looking Back With A Year of Hindsight

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

The following are the contents of an article written by Catherine Woodiwiss.  I first shared this article here in my blog this past February.  Now, five months later, I thought I would re-explore the article and add any new insights I have developed since February.  My new comments appear in an italicized font directly underneath my original comments from this past February.

I knew that pain was a part of life, but — thanks in part to a peculiar blend of “God-has-a-plan” Southern roots, a suburban “Midwestern nice” upbringing, and a higher education in New England stoicism — I managed to skate by for quite some time without having to experience it.

After a handful of traumas in the last five years, things look different now. Trauma upends everything we took for granted, including things we didn’t know we took for granted. And many of these realities I wish I’d known when I first encountered them. So, while the work of life and healing continues, here are ten things I’ve learned about trauma along the way:

1. Trauma permanently changes us.

This is the big, scary truth about trauma: there is no such thing as “getting over it.” The five stages of grief model marks universal stages in learning to accept loss, but the reality is in fact much bigger: a major life disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no “back to the old me.” You are different now, full stop.

This is not a wholly negative thing. Healing from trauma can also mean finding new strength and joy. The goal of healing is not a papering-over of changes in an effort to preserve or present things as normal. It is to acknowledge and wear your new life — warts, wisdom, and all — with courage.

This first one is perhaps one of the most difficult ones to acknowledge.  Trauma is often so difficult precisely because it can result in permanent change.  Does this happen in 100% of all cases of trauma?  That is a good question.  I honestly do not know.  If there are some people who emerge from a period of trauma not fundamentally changed or at least somehow marginally impacted I suspect that they represent a very small fraction of the total population who will experience trauma in their lifetimes.

What has been so difficult for me in my own personal journey is the confusion I feel regarding when I can expect normal to feel, well, normal.  When trauma happens very early in a person's development, and is then followed by still more trauma early on (as it did in my particular history), it seems the potential for serious and even permanent harm is quite large.  As I have observed in the company of friends and alluded to in this blog it seems to me that adults can heal from trauma much more easily than children because they possess something children do not: they have life experience and maturity which can foster the important ability to maintain a healthy perspective.  Trauma does not have to permanently scar us and our ability to live in a healthy way in an all too often unhealthy world.  But the potential for such scarring is there, and seems to increase as the age at which you experience trauma decreases.

I also agree with Catherine's sentiment, however, that trauma can ironically help us to discover strength we might rarely call upon.  This has been my experience.  I have come to realize I am much stronger than I often gave myself credit for.  I have indeed been finding new strength and joy as she notes is possible.

As more time has passed I agree that trauma can undoubtedly permanently change us.  It very much depends on the particular circumstances.  In my own journey I recognize the immense grief I am now wrestling with as I recognize I simply cannot be an active part of a family that cannot understand how what I went through affected me nor how very harmful it was.

2.  Presence is always better than distance.

There is a curious illusion that in times of crisis people “need space.” I don’t know where this assumption originated, but in my experience it is almost always false. Trauma is a disfiguring, lonely time even when surrounded in love; to suffer through trauma alone is unbearable. Do not assume others are reaching out, showing up, or covering all the bases.

It is a much lighter burden to say, “Thanks for your love, but please go away,” than to say, “I was hurting and no one cared for me.” If someone says they need space, respect that. Otherwise, err on the side of presence.

I cannot agree more with this one.  From what I know of the literature within the mental health profession isolation, intended or otherwise, is a risk factor for the development of a variety of issues including depression, anxiety and delayed healing.  We need the presence of others in part because they can assist us in finding that important gift called perspective which I alluded to above.  But more importantly we need others because we are social creatures; human beings are not meant to live in isolation.  I think it goes against the very grain of our DNA.  Put another way: 'No man is an island'.

Very much related to the polarity of presence and distance is the issue of boundaries.  Some trauma is very much a product of the violation of healthy boundaries.  When children are abused, when a woman is raped, when an entire community is devastated by an occupying army, when a person stalks you...these are all examples of events in which the trauma results from a violation of boundaries.

Looking back and realizing how I had my own issues with boundaries earlier in my life I can say with great confidence that a person's conscious or unconscious violation of personal boundaries can be taken as one potential indicator that a person has been traumatized in the past.

Trauma can indeed be a lonely, disfiguring time.  Part of my harsh experience was being returned to my father's custody with the (unspoken) expectation that I accept being raised under his care despite all the pain I had experienced before I had even turned nine years old.

I think it is important to err in the direction of being overly-present.  Unfortunately many people do not know how to be present in times of immense hardship.  And here in America we lived in a very distracting culture.

3.  Healing is seasonal, not linear.

It is true that healing happens with time. But in the recovery wilderness, emotional healing looks less like a line and more like a wobbly figure-8. It’s perfectly common to get stuck in one stage for months, only to jump to another end entirely … only to find yourself back in the same old mud again next year.

Recovery lasts a long, long time. Expect seasons.

This observation is also profound.  Healing is most certainly not linear.  Living encased within the distorted Western, industrialized world paradigm that says 'progress' is not only good but essential, inevitable and endlessly sustainable is a serious delusion.  Human development bears out the reality that much of what we observe in the world unfolds in a decidedly non-linear way.

I remarked earlier in the history of my blog how my recovery process was unfolding in direct apparent contradiction to the seasons outside my windows.  As I continued to improve last summer, autumn and early winter I was simultaneously observing the world outside moving in the direction of hibernation and death.  To be honest it felt quite jarring.  Even in the seasons of weather there are steps forward and back.  Spring will arrive only to be punctuated by cold winds that serve as a reminder of the season that recently held sway.  Heat waves and cold waves can disorient us.  Trauma is like that...it can be profoundly disorienting.

But how long does recovery take before you feel normal?  That is another good question.  There are some days when I yearn so much for a clear answer to that question that I almost hurt in a different way.  Considering I had an anxiety disorder that was not fully successfully treated and that this was with me for a vast majority of my life history it does seem rather incredible to expect I would be done with my recovery after a mere seven months...even if I include all the time I previously spent in therapy.

I am still waiting to experience my first spring as a man without an anxiety order distorted my capacity for clear perception.

Here is one final connected point.  I find myself sometimes drifting off into thoughts of what this coming spring will be like.  I tell myself "This spring will be amazing!"  And then I catch myself in this imaginative reverie and realize I have the power to direct the course of my life but that I am also a part of a larger system whose future course is well beyond my control.  I have ideas about what the future will hold but I cannot guarantee anything to myself or others.  And I believe knowing that to be true is a very healthy way of living in the world.

The observation that healing has a certain seasonality is also quite true.  I can look back now over a period of a year.  Am I better? Undoubtedly so.  Am I done with therapy? Certainly not.  Do I know when I will feel truly whole and no longer haunted by the past? No.  Do I feel I am moving in the right direction? Yes.  I think it will be telling to see what happens when this coming autumn arrives.

4.  Surviving trauma takes “firefighters” and “builders.” Very few people are both.

This is a tough one. In times of crisis, we want our family, partner, or dearest friends to be everything for us. But surviving trauma requires at least two types of people: the crisis team — those friends who can drop everything and jump into the fray by your side, and the reconstruction crew — those whose calm, steady care will help nudge you out the door into regaining your footing in the world. In my experience, it is extremely rare for any individual to be both a firefighter and a builder. This is one reason why trauma is a lonely experience. Even if you share suffering with others, no one else will be able to fully walk the road with you the whole way.

A hard lesson of trauma is learning to forgive and love your partner, best friend, or family even when they fail at one of these roles. Conversely, one of the deepest joys is finding both kinds of companions beside you on the journey.

I can say so much about this one.  Rebuilding a life impacted by trauma is no small project.  In the best of circumstances post-trauma life can be demanding; it might feel like a never ending slog to get to some 'final' destination that looks like what you imagine healing to be.  Under the worst of circumstances trauma can permanently debilitate us.  I feel grateful my history of trauma never permanently disabled my body.  Though I have had my share of aches and pain I have a very healthy body all things considered.

Reviewing this comment I also am reminded of the wisdom of not 'putting all your eggs in one basket'. If you expect a small number of individuals to be your entire world for you there is a fair chance you will be disappointed.  I have learned this lesson...and then forgotten it only to relearn it again.  Just like it is wise to diversify an investment portfolio so is it also wise to diversify how you invest your time.  No one person, not even a life partner, can be everything you want and need.

I also agree that trauma can be a very lonely experience.  Based on my own personal history and the friendships and relationships I have enjoyed throughout the years I believe it is wise not to invest too much energy trying to find someone so nearly identical to you that you feel it's somehow a guarantee they will be able to relate to you in a deep way.  When I have tried to imagine such people for myself I have stuttered a bit at the very thought.  Indeed, I don't imagine there are many people whose personal history (the particular life themes, issues, hurts, traumas, etc) could easily mirror my own.

Finally, as you go through the healing process, it can be very appealing to bond with others over common experiences of trauma.  I felt a bit of a tug to do this when I was attending the partial program at Abbott Northwestern Hospital last November.  But there is a risk that in seeking companionship based first and foremost on common wounding you might easily collapse your sense of self into your trauma.  We are more than the sum of our traumas and hardships.  We are much more!  Despite whatever particular ways relationships may have been modeled to you as a child healthy relationships do not emphasize the negative, the hurts and a pessimistic outlook on life.

I think I can safely say that I am essentially through the stage in which I need the help of 'psychic firefighters'.  I am now well into a phase in which 'rebuilding' is my focus.  I suspect rebuilding can take  (much?) longer than the crisis management stage.  Again, it all depends on the particular details of a person's experience of trauma.  Context is very important to consider.

5.  Grieving is social, and so is healing.

For as private a pain as trauma is, for all the healing that time and self-work will bring, we are wired for contact. Just as relationships can hurt us most deeply, it is only through relationship that we can be most fully healed.

It’s not easy to know what this looks like — can I trust casual acquaintances with my hurt? If my family is the source of trauma, can they also be the source of healing? How long until this friend walks away? Does communal prayer help or trivialize?

Seeking out shelter in one another requires tremendous courage, but it is a matter of life or paralysis. One way to start is to practice giving shelter to others.

This can be a challenging issue to confront.  And I think it is only more so in cultures like America where we all too often seem to exist in a 'landscape of atomized selves'.  To better understand what I mean by that term please search out a past blog post under that title.

I struggle with the question as to whether family can be the source of healing considering how so much of my PTSD developed in response to illness and dysfunction within my family.  The challenge is to not permanently isolate when your heart is wounded.  To never allow yourself to love again is to never live again.  Life is full of risk.  There are no guarantees the moment we emerge from our mothers.

Thus far I have found regular and rigorous physical exercise to be an excellent way to do my own grief work.  I do not believe there is one right way to grieve.  I do think it somewhat safe to say there are wrong ways to grieve though.  Examples would include isolation, rumination over perceived mistakes and what-ifs as well as refusing to allow yourself to fully feel your pain.

I have unfortunately not found a level of quality in the grief resources here in the Twin Cities that I feel a metropolitan area of this size should have.  So I trudge through my grief in my own private therapy.  I am not sure 'where' I will find myself when the calendar year of 2014 ends.  At that time my medical insurance may change and require me to put more of my own financial resources into my healing process.  But that is six months away.  A lot can happen in a mere six months.

6.  Do not offer platitudes or comparisons. Do not, do not, do not.

“I’m so sorry you lost your son, we lost our dog last year … ” “At least it’s not as bad as … ” “You’ll be stronger when this is over.” “God works in all things for good!”

When a loved one is suffering, we want to comfort them. We offer assurances like the ones above when we don’t know what else to say. But from the inside, these often sting as clueless, careless, or just plain false.

Trauma is terrible. What we need in the aftermath is a friend who can swallow her own discomfort and fear, sit beside us, and just let it be terrible for a while.

Another way to rephrase this is the following: 'Do not offer false hope.'

When someone is suffering terribly it is only natural and humane to reach out to offer solace and whatever comfort we can.  Sometimes all we can do is be present for a person.  And sometimes that is more than enough. Attempting to rescue someone from pain may feel noble and wise but rushing in to 'save' a person may do more harm than good.  When trauma proves all the more devastating due to poor coping and life skills rushing in to rescue someone caught in such darkness may only delay the inevitable realization a person may need to have that it is essential to develop healthy life skills.

Rather than offer false hope I would propose an effective coping technique can be to refocus your attention on what still is working and wonderful in your life.  Unless you are clinically dead there is something going well for you.  It may be something as simple as being able to breathe.  In the most horrifying moments of trauma we would benefit from employing conscious breathing techniques.  This can allow the mind to settle down.

I have had friends advise me not to compare myself to other people.  I believe this is very sage wisdom to share.  We all are born into different circumstances and then have the opportunity to use our gifts and strengths to transcend our challenges and obstacles.  No one person will experience the same journey.  I try not to think too much about the fact that I am forty years old and only now really digging deeply into my psyche and healing the darkness I thought past treatment would have achieved.  Starting over, even under the best of circumstances, isn't necessarily easy.

7.  Allow those suffering to tell their own stories.

Of course, someone who has suffered trauma may say, “This made me stronger,” or “I’m lucky it’s only (x) and not (z).” That is their prerogative. There is an enormous gulf between having someone else thrust his unsolicited or misapplied silver linings onto you, and discovering hope for one’s self. The story may ultimately sound very much like “God works in all things for good,” but there will be a galaxy of disfigurement and longing and disorientation in that confession. Give the person struggling through trauma the dignity of discovering and owning for himself where, and if, hope endures.

This piece strikes me as somewhat similar to #6.  Rather than rush in like a paramedic might do sometimes 'merely' witnessing with a person going through difficulty may prove immensely helpful.  Sometimes silent presence is ultimately a more satisfying balm than the most concerted actions to change disheartening circumstances (and supposedly thereby address the root issue).

Giving yourself (and others) the space to experience and truly feel everything you are feeling is a very important gift.  Many people do not make the time to do so.  Allowing yourself the time and space to heal from trauma takes time.

8.  Love shows up in unexpected ways.

This is a mystifying pattern after trauma, particularly for those in broad community: some near-strangers reach out, some close friends fumble to express care. It’s natural for us to weight expressions of love differently: a Hallmark card, while unsatisfying if received from a dear friend, can be deeply touching coming from an old acquaintance.

Ultimately every gesture of love, regardless of the sender, becomes a step along the way to healing. If there are beatitudes for trauma, I’d say the first is, “Blessed are those who give love to anyone in times of hurt, regardless of how recently they’ve talked or awkwardly reconnected or visited cross-country or ignored each other on the metro.” It may not look like what you’d request or expect, but there will be days when surprise love will be the sweetest.

This is wonderful encouragement.  And I can attest that love indeed does come to us at unexpected moments.  Sometimes the smallest of generosities may come to us and yet for those going through a personal agony it may feel as if that person has moved a mountain for you.  Never underestimate the power of a kind word or action.  Remember the expression 'It's the thought that counts'?

It's also important to recognize that love can only come to us in the ways we are open to it.  You cannot enter doors that are not already open.  I believe the more open we are to healing the more likely we are to heal.  And healing is as unique as the person experiencing it!  So consider asking yourself this question: 'How do you recognize a loving person?'  What does love do?

I hope love will show up for me in unexpected ways beyond what I have already experienced.  I need and want a lot more of it in my own life.  I have come to recognize I needed a lot more unconditional love when I was a child.  So how can I move forward now having come to appreciate this aspect of my early life history?  That is a primary question before me now.

9.  Whatever doesn’t kill you …

In 2011, after a publically humiliating year, comedian Conan O’Brien gave students at Dartmouth College the following warning:

"Nietzsche famously said, 'Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.' … What he failed to stress is that it almost kills you.”

Odd things show up after a serious loss and creep into every corner of life: insatiable anxiety in places that used to bring you joy, detachment or frustration towards your closest companions, a deep distrust of love or presence or vulnerability.

There will be days when you feel like a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible chasm, when fear paralyzes any chance for pleasure. This is just a fight that has to be won, over and over and over again.

This reminds me again that healing after trauma has no standard path.  I have had days when everything outside of me gives the illusion that my life is perfectly fine.  You can have a day when everything flows smoothly and you get everything you want and somehow you still feel low and blue.  It is perfectly fine for such days to come and go.  Remember that recovery is just that, recovery.  And yet I do believe that a solid commitment to bettering your life will eventually be handsomely rewarded.  It simply takes time and commitment.  And you have to be willing to remain steadfast even when the results you desire do not seem to be coming.  Think of the farmer who plants his seeds in spring.  Does he expect a full crop in a week's time?  Of course not.  So it is with healing.

Each and every day is indeed a new day.  And yet each new day may feel very much like so many other days.  It may seem we are required to slay the same dragons over and over again.  My recovery process has most certainly not been a straight line pointed steadily upwards.  I have felt despair, fear, the beauty of hope and impatience.  Every new day presents itself as a new opportunity to move forward.  Bad days are allowed.  Perfection is not required.

10.  … Doesn’t kill you.

Living through trauma may teach you resilience. It may help sustain you and others in times of crisis down the road. It may prompt humility. It may make for deeper seasons of joy. It may even make you stronger.

It also may not.

In the end, the hope of life after trauma is simply that you have life after trauma. The days, in their weird and varied richness, go on. So will you.

That which doesn't kill you not only may make you stronger but it may give you something I alluded to earlier in this writing: perspective.  If you have struggled with multiple sectors of your life (career, home, relationships) for a protracted time do you really think you will be likely to notice or care about the small details in life?  And by small details I mean those minor things that some people inflate to such a degree that you find it laughable how much energy they waste on drama.  Think about these.  The discarded bathroom towel not properly hung to dry.  Being five minutes late to an appointment.  A rain check on a social engagement you are forced to reschedule due to bad weather.  Will these minor disappointments permanently hurt you?  No.  So don't give your immense power to them.

Yes the trauma I experienced did not kill me.  But it profoundly changed me.  And I never appreciated how much until these last twelve months.  Disentangling the immense constellation of my life experiences and mining them for insight with which I can establish a new foundation for my future life has been an intensive and demanding process.  But it has been immensely rewarding.  It just takes time.

In short trauma does not have to signify the end of a good and enjoyable life.  You may come out of trauma permanently changed...but perhaps the changes will lead you to an even better life.  Who can say?  I believe a key to surviving trauma is to not armor yourself against pain indefinitely but to allow loss to speak to your heart.  By embracing our darkness we can later more deeply appreciate that which is light in our lives.

Thank you to Catherine Woodiwiss for her excellent piece.  I hope my additional thoughts will prove inspirational to those who follow me.

Catherine Woodiwiss is Associate Web Editor at Sojourners. She can be found on Twitter at @chwoodiwiss.